Strawberry Fields Forever
by girlwhorocksall
Summary: She never had a love, so she turned her own to her studies. Believing she was just fine loving herself, it takes a while for young Miss Granger to realize her coldest professor's change of heart is because of an underlying cause.
1. Still Running

_Disclaimer: Anything you recognize, much to my displeasure, isn't mine._

_Notes: This is my first fic, and I must admit I picked a rather… tough ship to begin with. Just stick with me & review! Criticisms and flames welcome, as is flattery. ;) Oh, and this fic is around Hermione's seventh year, though I'd like to ask all of you to ignore the happenings in HBP. Thanks._

He watched her.

There was something about her that made her quite captivating. He couldn't put his finger on it, however, and much to his displeasure and personal embarrassment, he found himself watching her frequently without noticing until a sniveling student like Longbottom snapped him out of his reverie.

Each time this had happened, he had sneered and deducted points from Gryffindor before stalking down each row of desks, peering into students' cauldrons and making snide remarks, if saying anything at all. But every time he came to hers, he found nothing astray, and silently moved on.

Sometimes he would spend hours on end trying to figure out why he acted this way towards her, and often got lost in thought until a potion went askew. Cursing, he would damn himself and start all over again.

It was entirely pointless and unprofessional to spend so much time thinking about a student, especially one of the dream team. Despite being Potter's friend, however, he was glad to see they hadn't yet completely corrupted her with things such as Quidditch. There was still a steady glint of determination in her eyes, and it only seemed to strengthen as weeks went by, and he made all the more snide remarks to the three.

On one such occasion, he'd found her whispering directions to Longbottom out of the corner of her mouth. Sneering, he'd stalked over to the desk which currently was being used by the dream team, plus Neville.

"Detention, Miss Granger," He'd said silkily, "tonight. My office, seven o' clock," he turned to leave as the bell rang, "sharp."

He could hear Potter and Weasley's stifled anger as he entered into his private quarters, and sank down onto an emerald green couch. Now what had he done? He'd given the girl detention and now would be staring at her even more.

Glaring to nothing in particular, he got up and grabbed a bottle of Firewhisky, downing half of it with one gulp. Loosening his grasp on the bottle, he set it down with a clink on the shelf next to him, and sighed.

&&&

"I can't believe the bloody git gave you detention!" Ron swore as they walked down the corridor towards the great hall for lunch.

"Ron!" Hermione scolded him, looking albeit flushed as some first years jumped at the sudden outburst from the redhead.

Harry nodded his agreement with Ron, but noticed Hermione's shrug of uncertainty.

"What?" He asked as they pushed through the doors and made their way towards the Gryffindor table, "You don't think you deserved it, do you?"

Hermione bit her lip as she sank into a seat opposite them.

"Well," She began slowly, taking a sip of pumpkin juice, "It's not as if I'm not guilty though, is it?" She scrunched her face, but continued, "I mean, I _was_ helping Neville. Though I don't know why Professor Snape didn't give him detention. And we have stolen from his stores before."

Ron, though his mouth was full to the bursting with food, shot a nasty look towards where Snape was sitting with Dumbledore eating lunch. "Stall ah giot fo." He mumbled.

"Come again?" Hermione gave him a disgusted glance as she cut her meat and lifted it to her mouth with a more dignified manner.

"I said," Ron paused, swallowing briefly, "He's still a git, though." He then went back to eating like a pig, as if it were a contest between him and the entire table on who could eat the most in the shortest time.

Harry nodded his agreement, his mouth full, and not wanting to risk getting scolded by Hermione if he opened it and tried to talk. After chewing thoughtfully for a moment and swallowing, he raised his green eyes to her chocolate ones.

"You're going to go, aren't you?" He asked, in an almost accusatory manner, raising an eyebrow at her.

Hermione sighed exasperatedly. "_Yes_," she said forcefully, "of course I'm going to go. If I don't, I'll only get another detention, and it will probably be a far bit nastier than whatever he has planned for me tonight, and I expect even _that's_ going to be ghastly."

She set her fork down, took a sip from her goblet, and extracted herself from the table.

"Now," she said, in a tone that left no space for comments or defiance, "I'm going to go the library, or am I not allowed to go there, either?" She picked up her books and briskly walked off, her annoyance at them fading a bit as she got farther away.

"Git." Ron mumbled, and Harry only sighed, and went back to his meal.

End notes: Okay, so that was the first chapter! Hope you all liked it, though it isn't very lengthy and dramatic. Trust me, I like a good, thorough story so if you just stick around for the ride, I promise you'll be impressed. Hopefully, anyway. ;) Like I said at the beginning, flames/criticisms/flattery are all welcome, so please do so. Also, if you'd favor a poor girl, tell me what you did/didn't like, and what you'd like to see happen/like to see more of. Thanks!


	2. Running Up That Hill

_Disclaimer: If they were mine, would I really be posting this? And if they were mine, I'd also be rich. So it's safe to guess I'd probably be out there on a private jet with some guy dressed up as Snape._

Note: Thanks to Pure Girl, Heidi191976, and avasion for being my very first reviewers! Means quite a bit that you'd comment on my little fic, especially as it only had one chapter. You know, I find a lot of good stories go unnoticed just because they have a smaller amount of chapters, but some very good writing skills. Anyway, this is chapter two. Oh, and I'm not that great of a writer, and Snape/Hermione probably might be a little OOC. I think it was BlueRosesAtMidnight [she's great, I LOVE her fics who said that it's pretty much impossible to keep Snape in OOC when it's a love fic. Something of that sort, anyway. Now, on with the chappie! Reviw!

**&&&**

Her annoyance having worn off a few classes earlier, Hermione set her books on the nightstand beside her bed, looking regretfully at the single piece of homework she had to do. She hated leaving anything till the last minute, and never having pushed anything aside like that, she felt that having to do her homework after detention made her blanch more than actually having to do the detention, never mind the fact that it was Snape's detention.

Resigning herself to a rather excruciating evening, she left the dorms and passed through the Gryffindor portrait hole. She had made it a few feet away when she heard a voice behind her.

"Shouldn't you be studying?" The Fat Lady gave her a scrutinizing look, and Hermione grimaced. If she told the Fat Lady anything, it would probably be around the school within a few seconds.

"Well, I'm, uh," She searched her head for an excuse, "I'm going to see a professor for some extra credit work." She let a small smile flit across her face.

"Right," The Fat Lady said, "which explains why you're going to Professor Snape's classroom, I suppose."

Hermione sent her a half hearted glare. "How did you know that?" She asked slowly, hoping not a whole lot of time had flown by, lest she be late for her detention and get points deducted from Gryffindor.

Or worse, another detention.

"Two words, one name," The Fat Lady replied cheekily, "Ronald Weasley."

Hermione grimaced, promising to herself that she'd curse Ron into the next century. That, or perhaps just never lend him her homework to copy. Shaking her head, she stomped off without a word to the Fat Lady, who simply sent the back of her head a look and then vanished from her portrait.

Finally, after several cases of moving stairs and Peeves following her, she managed to get to the potion masters' classroom.

Sighing, she lifted her hand to knock on the door, but was startled when it sprung open, Snape standing across the threshold from her. He sent her a smirk, and beckoned her in, and with a sinking feeling Hermione followed.

She took the desk he pointed to, and watched him as he returned to his seat. Snape sat for a moment, regarding her with his dark eyes, the room silent except for the nervous tap of Hermione's foot and the swish of a ladle which had been magically charmed to stir the contents of the cauldron.

"Miss Granger," Snape hissed, an eyebrow rising behind his dark hair, which seemed to cloak his face, "are you aware of what the time is?"

Gulping, Hermione thought it best not to answer the intimidating potion master, and instead she simply shook her head slowly.

Snape's reply was a smirk, and he took his time weaving throughout the desks and cauldrons to get to where she was seated in the middle of the classroom. As he did this, Hermione chanced a look around. The room was even darker at night than it was in day, the only light falling from the lit torches scattered around the room. Select cauldrons bubbled, and Hermione caught a whiff of… Lavendar?

"Miss Granger," Snape snarled in her ear, breaking her out of her reverie, "are you aware that it is ten minutes past seven?" He sneered down at her, outlined lightly with the light the torches gave off. It was a rhetorical question, but he was inwardly amused when she opened her mouth to reply.

"I'm sorry, Professor," Hermione mumbled hurriedly, "I was not aware-,"

"Silence!" Snape hissed, "You insufferable know-it-all. Have I given you any sign, any inclination that leads you to believe you should speak?" He swished to the front of the classroom, seating himself in a chair behind his desk, and glared at her from there.

"Wolfsbane potion, Miss Granger," He smirked at the look on Hermione's face, "I assume you are already in full knowledge of its uses and…" He paused, his smirk growing even more malicious, "its receiver?"

Professor Lupin, who had returned to the school after much debate from the ministry, had been taking doses of the Wolfsbane potion, she knew. She simply nodded, not wanting to push Snape any more than she had by speaking out the last time. It was cold in Snape's classroom, even colder now that it was December, and snowing to boot, and she resisted the urge to shiver.

"You have two hours." Snape's voice left no room for argument, and after she inclined her head in a slight nod again, "You may use the ingredients in my stores. But if I catch you so much as stealing a handful of a Squadron intestine, you'll be…" He smirked, "delt with accordingly. I will be away, and far too busy to give Lupin his little potion. I trust and expect you to do so."

With that, he dismissed her to work, and left himself to succumb to his own thoughts.

**&&&**

"Well," Ron's impatient voice startled her, and she snapped up to look at him, "are you going to tell us what the bat made you do?" It was ten o' clock, and she had gotten back from Snape's detention not long ago.

Rolling her eyes, she scanned her piece of parchment, made one last flourish, and set it aside so that the ink could properly dry. She sat back and leaned into the couch, relishing in the impatient and eager faces of her two best friends before her.

"Well, Ronald," Hermione said pointedly, her voice dripping with payback, "why don't you go ask the Fat Lady?" She smiled sweetly at Ron's face as he tried to deny it.

"Me? What? I, no, never, I, uh," Ron stammered while Harry simply grinned, "I didn't do that!"

Hermione picked up her books, rolled her eyes again, and pushed past them, mumbling, "Of _course_ you didn't, Ron. Now, goodnight, and it will do well for the both of you to keep your mouths shut. I thought, since you're Harry's best friend, you could do that about all the stuff we've learned about from the Order, but apparently when it comes to a silly little detention," She was halfway up the steps leading to the girls dormitory and so she had to raise her voice a little more, "you can't resist letting the whole school know!

**&&&**

Okay, that's it for chapter two! Reviews are welcome, of course. Thanks again to Heidi191976, avasion and Pure Girl for being the first reviewers!


	3. Anticipation Of The Mind

_Disclaimer: I know I don't own anything. You know I don't own anything. The cops know I don't own anything._

_Note: Thanks to the reviewers who commented on chapter one for continuing to comment on chapter two! And thanks snapehermionelover, I'm glad you like it so far. Now, one of my readers avasion left this comment when I posted chapter one: __**"**__**you know at first i thought that snape just up-and-left his class in order to go drink in the back room, i was like, 'huh?'-but then i reread it and realized that that wasn't the case. heh heh, although that would have been kinda interesting, snape busting through the door in one of his dramatic entrances only to fall flat on his face...poor snape." **__That made me laugh like crazy! If this wasn't such an angst filled story, I might have just included that._

You know what, in order to get a feel for my writing and what different styles I can do, I think I'll create a one shot Snape/Hermione with Sev being a little bit tipsy. ;) Look for it up soon! And now… Onto chapter three!

**&&&**

The snow fell heavy on the grounds outside of Hogwarts, and Hermione Granger was in heaven. Well, not technically, but she was in a fitful sleep, the kind of sleep that is _not_ to be disturbed. The birds were chirping through the windows of the girls dormitory, and the light sunshine filtered through the window. Rolling over, Hermione smiled in her sleep, and snuggled deeper underneath the covers.

"Wake up!" A voice shouted in her ear, and she sat bolt upright, eyes wide, as Parvarti and Lavender cackled.

"What," She spat, rolling out of bed and advancing on the girls, a Molly Weasley-ish look on her face, her hands on her hips, "the _hell_ was that for?"

At least Parvarti and Lavender had the good sense to stop laughing and look ashamed.

"Sorry, Hermione," they mumbled, and with a point to the clock from Lavender, they sped out of the room.

Grinding her teeth together, Hermione glanced at the clock. _Shit. _If she didn't cut down and only do half the things she normally did in the morning (not that it was much, at any rate, she didn't do nearly as much as Lavender and Parvarti, those two were up hours beforehand.) she'd be late for breakfast.

Pulling on her underthings and uniform, she made a haphazard attempt at tame hair, only failing to make it appear any more decent, and sped out of the room into the common room, out the portrait hole, and down to breakfast.

**&&&**

"What took you so long, 'Mione?" Ron asked, his mouth not completely full for once. He'd – and most everyone else had, as well – finished his breakfast already, and Hermione only had time to grab a bit of bacon before the rest of the food vanished. Sighing, and promising herself to eat more at lunch, she nibbled on the bacon as she thought of an answer.

In truth, it had been a good dream. She'd been flying – though she hadn't been on a broomstick in ages, having a fear of heights or accidents, but she'd always thought it looked very free and pleasant – and there had been someone with her, though she couldn't make out exactly who.

"Overslept." She smiled sheepishly at them, finishing her bacon. The trio turned to leave, but something caught Hermione's eye, and she stopped for a moment, looking around. It was as if someone had been watching her. Turning yet again, she cast a glance toward where the teachers were sitting, and was startled to find Snape watching her. It was almost as if he didn't know he was doing it.

"What, Hermione?" Harry frowned. Something had been up with his best friend yesterday, and now today she was acting just as odd, if not more so.

Shaking herself out of her reverie, Hermione simply shrugged, told them not to worry about it and get a move on or they'd be late for transfiguration, and resolved to think about it later.

**&&&**

It was potions right after lunch, and Hermione felt a strange coiling sensation in her stomach as the trio made their way down to the dungeons. It was colder down here, and she wrapped her robe more tightly around herself, letting a shiver pass through her body.

Ron glanced sideways at her. He, like Harry, had noticed a difference in his best friend, and as he met his male best friends eyes over the top of Hermione's head, a silent message passed between them.

"Hermione," Harry started conversationally, "is something bothering you?" They passed by another lit torch, the echoes of their shoes slapping on the cold stone following them as they walked at medium pace down the long corridors. He noticed her tense a little, and then put on a mask, a mere smile coming out to meet him.

"Why would you ask that, Harry?" Was the reply, "I'm perfectly fine. It's Neville we should all be worried about."

Hermione's eyes clouded. "I'm still trying to figure out why he only asked me to detention instead of the both of us." They all shrugged. It was a good question, but not one they were likely to find an answer to, as they had just arrived outside Snape's classroom.

As they entered and took their seats at their usual table, Ron raised his eyebrows. Knowing he was about to ask something she probably didn't want to answer, Hermione rolled her eyes and set her sack of books down by her feet, getting her potions book out.

"Yes, Ron?" She asked wryly, and was half amused to see the boy give a start, like he didn't know she'd been expecting it. The chatter around them grew louder as more of their classmates, both Slytherin and Gryffindor, entered and took their seats.

"Well, 'Mione, it's just that," Ron broke off, sharing a glance with Harry, "it's just that Harry and I were still wondering about what Snape made you do for detention last night."

This again? What was with them?

Hermione opened her mouth to answer, but closed it abruptly when Snape busted through the door leading to his private quarters.

"Turn to page three hundred and ninety four." He instructed in a tone that left no room for argument or conversation. He swept back to his desk, but not before Hermione noticed that his gaze lingered a second on her. Apparently Ron hadn't let that escape his notice either, because he cast a quizzical, almost… jealous look at her. Rolling her eyes and shrugging, she opened her textbook and flipped to the desired page.

They had been instructed to work on a sleepless dream draught, and as Hermione was pouring over the cauldron, making sure everything was just so, the potions master swept over to their table, peering into the cauldron.

He noticed Hermione giving him an almost expectant look.

"It will do." Snape answered, and as he made to move away, he added, "See me after class, Miss Granger."

She nodded, and as she turned back around to gather and prepare more of the ingredients, she noticed Ron's ears turn a little pink. Sighing, she completed her work without any more conversation, and as Harry gathered his books and nudged Ron, they left, leaving Hermione alone with Snape.

She approached his desk silently. He was bending over some sort of complicated looking draft for a spell, or so it seemed. Hermione cleared her throat, and he looked up, albeit startled. Sneering, he shoved the papers into a drawer of his large oak desk, and motioned for her to take a seat.

"Your Wolfsbane concoction was…" Snape paused, as if trying to find words, "satisfactorily adequate. It would be much appreciated if you would hand it out to Professor Lupin in my absence each night for a week."

Hermione eagerly nodded, any excuse to see one of her favorite professors was fine by her.

"Good," Snape's voice was once again clipped, as where a moment ago it had been almost… hesitant. Or had she been imagining things? It wouldn't have been the first time, though she was known for primarily keeping a levelheaded disposition, as opposed to Ron's impulsiveness.

**&&&**

He had to admit it – she was beautiful. Her wild, messy hair hung around her almost chiseled features, and he had to keep himself at bay as an image of his hands running through it flashed into his mind. No… This was inappropriate. She was a student, the top of line, and was expected by most of the staff to carry on to do great wonders.

Her eyes were dark, the fine eyebrows above them arched in curiosity. Her lips were almost rosy in coloration, and her neck long and elegant. Her shoulders were obscured by her robes, though he knew by studying the rest of her build that they must be wiry – but not in a bad way.

Shaking himself out of his hunger for her – no, he reprimanded himself, appreciation – he sneered and handed her a slip.

"Detention, Miss Granger, seven sharp." He smirked a bit at her shocked expression, and swept from his seat into his quarters.

He didn't know how much longer he could stand it.


End file.
